


to hope till hope creates from its own wreck

by mintpearlvoice



Category: Alien: Covenant
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon Fix-It, Robot Feels, but not in a sex way, past violations of physical autonomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintpearlvoice/pseuds/mintpearlvoice
Summary: Daniels: still delirious from her battle with David and the alien-human hybrid embryo.Walter: determined to take care of her, if she'll let him.





	to hope till hope creates from its own wreck

Caring for Daniels was an exercise in frustrating prerequisites. For instance, mentally, she'd be better off in the cryotube. He could monitor her hormone levels and keep her adrenaline from spiking. The human body was capable of astounding self-regeneration. At this point, he could do a great deal to care for her, but she needed rest. She needed time. Her body needed to replenish the blood and nutrients it had lost, and the cryotube's induced coma could serve as a healing state.

But until she was rehydrated and stable- until her wound had closed and her temperature had returned to baseline- the cryotube wasn't an option.

 

Ship speed is even, he transmitted to Mother, looking at the readouts. We're still on course and progressing as scheduled.

 

He'd found her curled in the colonist tube corridor in a slowly trickling pool of her own blood, fighting for breath even as the Hybrid breathed its last and the light in David's eyes died; both single-mindedly seeking to eliminate Daniels, they'd killed each other, father and son, creator and creation.

David had turned his gaze to Daniels, reaching out a mechanically twitching hand. "My child. Our child. Isn't it… beautiful…"

"Fuck you," she'd whispered. "You're no God-" and thrown the blood-smeared knife.

 

She'd been more dead than alive for days, the acid mingling with her blood. All he could do was try to keep her hydrated and sedated enough for the medpod to do its work. This day cycle, the pod had spat forth its bedraggled occupant. The wound on her belly, still jagged and red, was stitched up with neat nanothread.

In the soft grey landscape of the captain's bed, she looked even paler, smaller. Her face was white and drawn, and she moaned in her sleep.

Her skin under his lips: hot and dry. Temperature elevated.

Soft. (Data irrelevant, but still measured; similar data points might be compared to rose petals, or silk.)

"Rest now, Daniels. I'll be back as soon as I can."

 

As he finished maintaining the ship status, the Daniels readout pinged in alert. Elevated pulse and heart rate, rapid movement…

Damn. Was she even aware of his presence? There were soft medical restraints in the med bay- he should have used them, should have looked for them- did she know she was safe?

As more alerts moved to the surface of his consciousness, he broke into a run.

 

She tossed her catheter aside and started on the IV. Did he think he could use her again- force her to breed his demented, half-human child? If he called her Elizabeth one more time… she'd drive this ship straight into a dwarf star before she'd be complicit in the creation of his twisted, monstrous master race.

This was better affixed than his usual work. She'd been throwing up every day, passing out from malnutrition and dehydration. Each time it was a surprise that she was still alive. Fucking tape. She gritted her teeth and ripped off both pieces; it stung. Her heart was beating so fast her chest ached, like a trapped hummingbird. Now to get this damn IV out before he pumped more chemicals in and shoved her back into sleep.

Giving it another tug, she realized she was wearing pajamas. Robot pervert saw me naked-

As if one more violation even mattered at this stage. Her only chance at survival, at the survival of the human race, was to kill him.

With one more pull, it came loose. Blood spurted all over the blankets. Her vision swam.

When she tried to stand up, the hollow places in her abdomen ached beyond words, needle-sharp and burning. The walls slid in different directions.

Keep moving. Find a weapon. No matter how dizzy and exhausted she felt, fainting was out of the question.

Come on, Daniels, she imagined Tennessee telling her. (her only friend left in the world, her brother, her rock, and he'd died so slowly) Can't give up now. Not when that bastard's still out there.

"Probably onto The Magic Flute by now," she growled. Palms flat against the wall, she heaved herself up on shaking legs. Swallowed hard.

Can't throw up again… keep moving…

 

She didn't know he was there until his wide blue eyes met hers.

"Daniels."

That cultured voice, so soft, almost gentle. She couldn't stand it.

Forcing herself to breathe, she raised her head. That's it, Daniels, said the Tennessee in her head. Don't you dare show weakness. He's nothing but an animal. "David," she said, her voice cold. "This ends here. I'm the new Elizabeth, aren't I? The only one who's enough of a survivor to breed your masterpiece. What would you do without me?"

Letting him ponder that, she bolted. Stumbled, her legs collapsing under her. No. Fuck!

With effortless, mechanical strength, he swung an arm around her middle and picked her off the floor. "Daniels, you need to get back into bed. You're still very weak."

That was all he cared about. Making sure she was a fit vessel for his special creation. If only she could goad him into killing her. If only she could fucking die.

 

"Don't touch me, don't fucking touch me," she sobbed, pounding ineffectually at his chest. She was much stronger than this- normally, could have de-activated him, an oddly compelling thought. But right now, she was so worn down, so helpless.

"Daniels," he said calmly. "I understand why you're afraid. But I'm not David."

"I'm not stupid." She slammed her skull into his nose, setting off several unnecessary subroutine alarms related to non-essential damage. He dragged her another few steps towards the bed-

After a millisecond of flailing, she kicked him straight in the crotch.

 

Too many sensors there. Too many entirely unnecessary sensors. Still, he was a durable model. When she took advantage of his moment of weakness to thrash away, he picked her up and dropped her back onto the bed.

She moaned, her eyes fluttering shut.

Had she re-opened her abdominal wound? Thankfully, there was no blood spilling out to stain her white tank top. Before she could gather herself to make another attack, he re-fastened the restraints around her wrists, more securely this time. She went still. For a moment he assumed her to be asleep. Tears spilled out from her closed eyelids, her chest rising and falling in broken falls.

This was wrong. This was all wrong.

"Daniels," he said quietly.

She tried to thrash away, tugging at her restraints. "No."

He laid a careful hand on her shoulder, felt her tense and freeze under him. "David is no longer operational. You destroyed him, along with the alien-human hybrid. You're suffering from blood loss, severe dehydration, and a fever. You're also at risk of opening your self-inflicted wounds."

She stared at him, her gaze bleak. Hopeless. "How can I trust you… how can I trust anything you have to say?"

He sat on the large bed, tucking his legs under him. "Everyone thinks Daniels is your surname; however, your legal name is actually Danielle Branson. You threaten anyone who attempts to call you Danielle."

"Everyone knows that."

"…Your tolerance for marijuana, colloquially called 'weed' is significantly lower than the human average."

"Oh yeah?" Her tone indicated suspiciousness, yet a spark of intrigue remained. She was considering letting her guard down. Only considering, but it was a start.

"The first time you imbibed this substance, along with several other crewmates, you were unable to operate a lighter, despite your ability to operate highly advanced terraforming equipment."

Tennessee had doubled over laughing watching her ineffectually click the mechanism, growing gradually more frustrated, before the Captain had finally taken it from her and lit the joint in her mouth.

"…Go on."

 

He talked about the first time she'd smoked weed, "becoming intoxicated on a low THC substance," and spent thirty straight minutes chugging concentrated milk product and staring at the lines on her hands. About how she fell asleep to podcasts. About how she used the ship's rock climbing wall more than anyone else.

More frequent memories surfaced as well: the helplessness of her swollen, churning belly, watching with horrified fascination as each day the hybrid expanded inside her. Her frantic flight through the ship's corridors, pressing on her wound to keep it closed.

No wonder everything ached, her tongue feeling too big for her paper-dry mouth. When she opened her eyes, David- no, Walter, they looked so similar but there was worlds of difference- was staring at her with an expression so patient and worshipful it hurt her heart.

"Walter?" she whispered. Even that small effort sent a wave of dizziness over her.

He touched her hand, as if afraid she'd disintegrate under pressure. When she tried to squeeze his fingers, he gently stroked her palm. "I'm here, Daniels."

"Shouldn't I be in cryo?"

"You're still very weak- also somewhat delerious."

She cracked a smirk. "No, really?"

His answering smile reassured her. "We need to get you stabilized before you undergo the cryogenics process." He stood up; was he going to leave? This big bed, this big room- she didn't want to be alone. If she forgot- if she hurt herself…

"I'm just going to prepare you a glass of oral rehydration solution." He poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the bedside table, then opened an envelope and poured blue crystals in. "Can you sit up, Daniels?"

Her sore muscles protested with movement, stitches throbbing. "Gonna have to say no on that one."

"Will you permit me to help you?"

David had only touched her to check on the child. Or to hurt her. As long as it didn't threaten the embryo, he wasn't above inflicting degradation and agony. Touch that wasn't clinical, wasn't painful… after months of being strong, after refusing to let David relish in her terror, something had broken inside her. All she wanted was to be held. 

Her hoodie was soaked with sweat; he helped her pull her arms out. The sheets felt blessedly cool against her overheated skin. He stripped down to a T-shirt and shorts before sliding under the covers beside her. His body temperature, lower than a human's, was comforting- the touch of another human would probably have felt unbearably warm.

He helped her sit up, and she rested her head back against his chest. His steady, slow heartbeat calmed her own. "Let's get some fluids into you." The vibrations of his voice made her want to sleep, but her head spun when she tried to close her eyes. As much as she hated the idea of eating or drinking anything, she knew she was right.

 

She retched before swallowing the first sip, liquid spilling over her chin, and concern troubled him. He swept this away. Didn't he have empirical evidence of her capacities as a survivor? Daniels was stronger than her wounds, stronger than her sickness.

(He needed her to be strong.) "Are you all right?"

"Just scared, I think… I threw up so much, after… after it started growing inside me." She winced, remembering pain, and he stroked her hair. The gesture seemed to ease her, even if only slightly.

The dark strands needed washing. Briefly, he imagined rinsing her hair… helping her clean her entire body, allowing his gaze to linger on the expanse of her healing skin. The scar would remain a raised line forever, testament to her resilience, her power and strength.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. That was the suggested protocol in this situation.

She nodded, melting into him, allowing him to bear more of her weight. "I'm so tired," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"I know, but you need to try again. When you're rehydrated enough, you'll be able to take pain medication without irritating your stomach any further. Then you can sleep for at least six to eight hours." He kept his voice slow and gentle, drawing out the sounds; allowing himself to touch her face, the fragile shell of her ear.

She let out a sigh, her body relaxing. "I'll give it a go."

 

At first, the idea of swallowing anything made her feel sick. David had dismantled several med pods to create the artwork of his dreams. Tubes jammed down her throat contained what went into her body. Tubes in places they weren’t meant to be, inserted when she lost the struggle against unconsciousness, carried waste out. He’d even controlled the chemical composition of the very air she breathed. She’d torn herself raw trying to scream, hurt herself further in vain attempts to make herself vomit- or to keep from being sick, later on in the gestation period, when keeping food down hurt too much.

But Walter was right. She needed to hydrate herself.

The first mouthful hit her tongue, full of rich flavor. Her grip tightened on Walter’s uncomplaining hand as she forced herself to swallow, breathing through her nose. Another sip. The level of fluid in the cup dipped slightly, and she felt proud of herself.

“There,” Walter said. “Not so bad, right? The label says that this flavor is supposed to be comforting for humans of your genetic and cultural background.”

“Says all that, huh?” She managed another sip. “Tastes a lot like my mom’s chicken soup.”

She felt him nod. “Protein, electrolytes… everything you need to recover.” His tone said, you’re going to be fine. You’re going to make it through this. Except for his breathing, he was unmoving, sturdy, a rock at her back.

After the first visceral terror of feeling the liquid slide down her throat, Daniels realized she was actually thirsty. She gulped down a few more mouthfuls.

“Easy now. Not too quickly, you’ll choke on that.”

“Right,” she said, and sipped the rest of it at a more measured pace. Her stomach twinged with nausea, but she took some deep breaths and powered through it. Finally she reached the bottom of the glass, and he rewarded her with a few mouthfuls of plain water and some painkilling sedatives.

“Good job, Daniels. A few more meals like that and you’ll have made a great deal of progress towards recovery.” He shifted, leaning her back against the pillows. Without his steady heartbeat to reassure her, the bed felt colder; her fever was ebbing into chills, leaving her to shiver and sweat. She pulled the covers around herself, trying vainly to gather some warmth. Alone in the huge bed she’d shared with her dead husband, with only memories to torment her…

“Walter,” she said, as he moved towards the door. “Can you- can you stay with me? Please?”

 

He hadn’t wanted to intrude. David hadn’t permitted her to have privacy, even within her own body. Leaving her some space to process her feelings… it was the logical choice.  The unfamiliar vulnerability in her voice brought this line of reasoning into question. Obviously, with her higher-than-average independence and stoicism, especially given her recent trauma, it would be difficult for her to openly request assistance or comfort. The fact that she was reaching out to him showed that she would be working to process those feelings.

He wanted- no, needed- to stay with her.

He was not supposed to be scared. Fear was irrelevant data; it was very difficult to damage a model on his level of sophistication. But the depth of how she pulled at him, initiating subroutines he hadn’t even been loaded with… it made him uneasy.

It was illogical. Perhaps even unprecedented. He wanted to soothe her to sleep, wanted to watch her smile like she had a secret in her dreams as she had done so often in cryo. He wanted to be there as she took her first fascinated steps on Origae-6, flourishing and safe. He wanted her to smile again… to smile at him.

She yawned, her eyes fluttering shut.

 

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, Daniels realized how exhausted she was. Every part of her body felt leaden and sore; she couldn’t imagine moving more than a few steps. All she wanted was to let go of the past.

For so long, she’d been in battle mode. Survival mode. How could she stay alive long enough to catch David off guard? How could she close her wound without risking infection? How could she track down her pursuers without alerting Mother, and therefore David, to her location?

She could feel Walter breathing, slow and even. If anything came up, he would handle it.

She wasn’t alone anymore. Wasn’t a lost comet drifting past uncaring stars. His arms wrapped around her, anchoring her. “Rest now, Daniels,” he murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

I know, she thought, and let her eyes close.

**Author's Note:**

> "To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;  
> To forgive wrongs darker than death or night;  
> To defy Power, which seems omnipotent;  
> To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates  
> From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;  
> Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent;  
> This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be  
> Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free;  
> This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory."  
> -Prometheus Unbound, Percy Bysse Shelley


End file.
